


unexplainable feelings

by aac7



Series: friends being a headache [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), felix does not understand feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29919000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aac7/pseuds/aac7
Summary: This whole thing had been entirely misconstrued by Sylvain, whose opinion was obviously compromised by his inclination to see romance in the smallest of details. Rolling onto his side, Felix presses his pillow over his ears, as if it would muffle the smug voice violating the back of his mind.You have a crush on the Professor.That absolutely could not be true....Right?_____5 times Felix gets jealous, and 1 time Byleth does instead.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Series: friends being a headache [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958674
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	unexplainable feelings

**Author's Note:**

> hello it's pretty much 3am and i'm back with a felileth 5+1 because i felt like it.

It’s late at night when Felix leans heavily on his door, pushing it open and stepping into the darkness of his room. Letting the door swing shut behind him, Felix unclasps his cloak and tosses it over the top of his dresser, it’s soon followed by his jacket, then his sword belt, which is carefully laid across his desk. 

Toeing off his boots, Felix rolls his shoulders a few times, grimacing at the dull ache that resonates with each movement. Groaning, he slowly lowers himself down onto the edge of his bed. His muscles are ridiculously sore, a painful but satisfying sign of a decent training session. 

It’d been a while since he’d partaken in such a rigorous sparring session. The knights that were up in Fraldarius were obviously skilled, but none could give him the same gratifying feeling he got when sparring with their recently returned professor. 

Each blow he parried tonight sent shockwaves through his veins. Every strike he landed on her or she landed on him made him grin like a madman. Each time their eyes and blades locked sent chills down his spine. Each feeling and sensation reignited a passion he’d lost when the war had broken out, and suddenly training didn’t feel so much like a chore anymore.

He liked training with her, and something foreign stirs in his chest when he thinks of how good it made him feel to spar with her again. It was worth all the aches and pains, blooming bruises and minor sprains. 

_“We’re comrades in arms now,”_ she’d told him as she’d hauled him to his feet after swiftly - and almost embarrassingly easily - kicking his ass. _“Call me Byleth.”_

A more appropriate term would be Commander, as she was the only one sane enough to lead the splintered remains of the Kingdom’s army until their beast of a king got his shit together. It wasn’t official yet, but he had a feeling the call would be made soon.

But the idea of calling the professor by her _name_...

He can feel himself flushing just thinking about it.

“What is wrong with me?” He mutters, covering his face with his hands and flopping back onto the bed with a sigh. He just couldn’t get her out of his head. The flecks of colour in her eyes, the criss-crossing of scars on her hands, the faint scent of lavender on her skin. 

A sudden snap of fingers breaks the quiet of his room, the sharp sound quickly followed by a flash of orange light. 

“I can tell you what’s wrong with you.”

“Shit!” Felix cries out. In his panic, he tumbles off of his bed and falls flat onto the floor. “What the fuck?” 

He looks up to see Sylvain sitting in the corner of his room. Fire flickers on his fingertips, and he wears an insufferable grin on his face. “Don’t you wanna hear what I think?”

“How long have you been sitting there?” Felix demands, scrambling to his feet and attempting to fix his disheveled appearance. 

“About an hour or so,” Sylvain shrugs, lighting up a few candles. “I was waiting for you.”

Never good words to hear coming from Sylvain’s mouth, in his experience. “So did you just come here to give me a heart attack or did you need something? If it’s either I don’t care, and you can leave,” he grumbles, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Sylvain, naturally, doesn’t move an inch. “Hey, relax! It’s just the two of us here, no need to be so on edge.”

“I’m always on edge.”

“Too true! But that’s beside the point. I know you, Felix. Sometimes you need to be told what you’re feeling because you refuse to acknowledge it yourself.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he rebuffs. How could he? Felix barely knew himself.

There’s an annoyingly smug aura about Sylvain as he flattens both feet on the ground, leaning heavily on his knees. “Is that so? Well, to answer the earlier question you so woefully asked the universe, it appears that you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, have taken a romantic interest in someone. Believe me, I know all about romantic interest.”

Felix blinks once in disbelief. Once more in shock. “That’s ridiculous. You know I don’t have time for things like that.”

But Sylvain, blathering fool he may be, had always been shrewder than Felix would ever care to admit. Behind eyes that flirted and played dumb was the mind an observant, calculating individual who could read people better than Felix ever could dream of.

“You’re a lot of things, Felix. Moody, stubborn, a touch pessimistic, but you’re not dumb. I know that you know what you’re feeling. You have a crush on the Professor.”

A crush. 

A _crush?_

A crush on their former professor? A woman who’d punched him in the face and smacked him with a training sword more times than he could count? 

It’s a stupid assumption, one that certainly, most definitely _could not_ be the case. “That can’t be it.”

Sylvain squints at him. “You sure about that? Because I’ve noticed that you’ve been awfully close to the Professor since we’ve been back.” 

“Yeah, and?” He asks, his tone perhaps a little too defensive to pass off as casual. “If she’s going to keep picking fights with the boar then I need to stick nearby.”

“Don’t play dumb, Felix, we already established that you aren’t,” Sylvain laughs, ignoring Felix’s weak attempt to redirect the conversation. “You stick by her because you _like_ her.”

“Must you romanticise every little thing?” He found himself momentarily wishing Ingrid were here, if only to clobber their friend on the head.

“Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it,” Sylvain scoffs, almost sounding annoyed. “It makes sense though, everyone was pretty taken with her back in the day, and I doubt much has changed. I guess even you aren’t immune to her charms.”

Byleth— the _Professor_ , was anything but charming in Felix’s opinion. So what if he found her slight smile infatuating and her befuddled head tilt endearing? That didn’t _mean_ anything. They were just things that he noticed. 

He shook his head as if it would free his mind. No, he was suddenly much too tired to put up with this absurd speculation. Sighing, he trudges across the room and yanks his door open. “Get out of my room, Sylvain.” 

“Actually, I was hiding from Ingrid so would it be alright if I crashed here—”

“No. In fact, I hope she finds you.”

“Please? I won’t tease you about your crush on the Professor anymore!” 

“Ingrid!” Felix yells down the hall, uncaring of who he might rouse at this ungodly hour (most of their returning class was on the first floor, anyways). “Come get your boy!”

“Shit! Come on, Fe,” Sylvain groans, jumping to his feet and looking between the window and the door. Part of Felix is tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with the window, but the redhead is in the doorway before he can decide.

The door is almost shut when Sylvain pokes his head back in the room. “One more thing before I go into hiding— A lot of people like the Professor. You should straighten out your feelings for her, and soon. I am more than happy to help you along.”

“There’s nothing for me to straighten out, and even if there was, I wouldn’t need _your_ help.” Felix maintains, pushing Sylvain’s head out of the way before slamming his door shut. 

Not bothering to change, Felix finally allows himself to fall back into bed. He can hear Ingrid and Sylvain running down the hallway, the former delivering a strict whisper-shouted lecture.

It’s quickly drowned out by his thoughts, each one swirling around behind his eyes and demanding to be acknowledged. 

The scent of lavender on skin.

Infatuating smiles.

Endearing head tilts

They were just _observations._ Things he noticed because, yes, he spent a lot of time around her on and off the training grounds. Her company was perhaps the least taxing of all his classmates, because she didn’t poke or prod for the personal details of his life. When she spoke to him it was frank and to the point, and she genuinely liked talking about things _he_ liked.Swordsmanship, new gambits, cats. 

Spending time with her was enjoyable, but admitting it did not _mean_ a thing. Mercedes and Annette hung out more than they did, and no one had ever accused their relationship of going beyond friendship.

This whole thing had been entirely misconstrued by Sylvain, whose opinion was obviously compromised by his inclination to see romance in the smallest of details. Rolling onto his side, Felix presses his pillow over his ears, as if it would muffle the smug voice violating the back of his mind.

_You have a crush on the Professor._

That absolutely could not be true.

...Right?

  
  


**_i._ **

The first time it happens, Felix doesn’t realize what he’s feeling and therefore cannot properly act upon it.

It’s about two weeks after his original confrontation with Sylvain. A normal day, in his opinion. A bit cold, considering it’s the Guardian Moon and the last tendrils of winter are still drifting down from Faerghus, but otherwise as normal as a day can get considering they’re at war. 

He’s coming in to catch the dinner service after a particularly rigorous training session. Nothing out of the ordinary. Once he gets his meal, he takes a seat at a table with the rest of his friends. As usual, he pushes one of Ashe’s books aside, reluctantly takes a cup of tea from Mercedes, and politely refuses a baked good from Annette. 

He’s in the middle of drinking tea and listening to Ingrid ramble on about how good today’s meals were when she’s interrupted by Sylvain’s obnoxiously loud laugh from somewhere across the room. 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t rendered him unconscious yet,” Ingrid scoffs, shooting a disapproving glare over Felix’s shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he turns to see what unlucky woman Sylvain had beguiled this week.

...And chokes on his tea, sputtering all over the floor.

His brain can hardly process the sight in front of him. Sylvain. His arm around a girl. Not just any girl though, because there’s no mistaking that goddess green hair.

It’s the Professor. Sylvain has his arm around _Byleth._

“Whoa, that was some distance,” Sylvain chuckles, pulling Byleth closer to him in order to guide her around the puddle he’d created. 

Whenever Sylvain brought a girl to their table, Felix’s first instinct would usually be to walk away. He had no time to waste listening to Sylvain talk about the girl’s cute friend that would always, without fail, be just _perfect_ for him.

Yet he finds himself rooted in place, watching, for some reason utterly appalled as they detangle momentarily to sit across from him. Once settled, Sylvain’s arm goes right around Byleth’s shoulders once more, and Felix feels his entire body stiffens like a board.

Why _hasn’t_ she rendered him unconscious yet?

Dumbfounded, Felix searches her face for any signs of distress, anything that might suggest that she was quite literally being held against her will. As usual he finds nothing, her face set in its typical blank expression. She picks through her food, seemingly unaware of Sylvain’s lanky arm slung around her. 

He looks around the table. Ashe has his book open, and is pointing out an excerpt to Ingrid. Annette is showing off a messily embroidered handkerchief to Mercedes, who is already pouring herself another cup of tea. Sylvain is the picture of relaxation, his arm still around Byleth and leaning down to whisper something in her ear. 

The corners of her lips rise and Felix nearly gasps out loud, his eyes darting around the table to see if anyone else had caught that rare half-smile. His friends were still absorbed in their own stuff, unaware of the absolute madness unfolding in front of them.

Sylvain just made her _smile._

Did _nobody_ think this was strange? 

  
  


**_ii._ **

The next time it happens, Felix finds himself in the dining hall again. 

It’s a day before they’re set to march for Ailell, and he’s wandered in after long after lunch service, in search of something to eat. He’s stepping through the door when he hears it, and his breath gets stuck in his throat.

It’s laughter. _Byleth’s_ laughter. A sound he seldom hears, but can recognize in an instant. The sound of her amusement is always light, barely there but making his heart--

He catches himself before he can get carried away. It was a _nice_ laugh. Nothing more. 

The dining hall is mostly empty, save for a few soldiers who’d gotten back late from routine surveillance missions. Most of the kitchen staff were likely on their break, judging from the meager spread set out on the counter before him. 

Byleth and Ashe are the only ones behind the counter, sleeves rolled up and wooden cooking utensils in hand. Opened containers of flour, and sugar lay around them, egg shells strewn about as they leaned over the pot Byleth is currently stirring.

His mood sours for some unexplained reason.

It isn’t even a big deal, Felix tells himself as he grabs a plate. It wasn’t unusual to see Yuri, Dedue, or even Mercedes in the kitchen with her, but for some reason this instance feels different. For some reason, _he_ feels different. Maybe it’s because of what Sylvian had said nearly a month and a half ago. He really hopes it isn’t, because that would mean admitting that the fool was _right._

Byleth laughs again, smacking Ashe’s shoulder playfully and leaving a flour covered handprint on his sleeve. This time Felix sets his empty plate down, striding around the counter 

“Hey,” he says smoothly, quite purposefully inserting himself between the two chefs. “What are you guys making?”

Ashe startles a little, making his reaction much more pleasant than Byleth’s usual stoic one. “Felix!” he exclaims nervously, as if he’d just been caught doing something bad. “We were just making sweet buns. Are-- are you done training?”

“For the day, yes. In fact I was just training with Petra. She mentioned that she wanted to see you in the cathedral.” Which just happened to be the opposite end of the monastery. Whether Petra would be there was a small detail Felix was unsure of.

Ashe looks confused. “The cathedral?”

“Yeah, you better get moving,” Felix shrugs, picking up a nearby hand towel and smacking him on the rear with it. The boy quickly stumbles through some instructions about the recipe to Byleth before hurrying off. 

Feeling oddly satisfied, Felix begins rummaging around for something to eat. He finds and opens a container of almonds. Byleth just barely looks over her shoulder at him, her gaze questioning as she lifts a brow.

“What?” He demands through a mouthful of almonds.

“Since you sent Ashe off to visit his love, aren’t you going to help me finish these sweet buns?”

“Wasn’t I banned from the kitchen?” Annette and the others had been very adamant on that since one incident in the Academy involving exotic spices and his stronger than average taste buds. Also, his dislike of sugar made baking a weakness of his.

Byleth - who had always been uncaring of weakness - sighs, patting a nearby mound of dough. “Well, I don’t see any spices that you and your heavy hand could use to ruin dinner, do you? All you have to do is knead the dough. You said you were done training for the day.”

Ah, but he had said that, hadn’t he?

Not seeing any way out of this, Felix replaces the jar and gives his hands a good wash. He glares down at the lump of gluten before him and rolls up his sleeves, unsure of where to start.

“Don’t overwork the dough, or else it’ll be too hard,” she warns before he can even touch it. “Don’t under-knead it either, or else it won’t rise properly and be too dense.”

Felix slowly retracts his hands, because frankly, he’s scared.

He flinches back when Byleth comes at him with a spoon. “What is that?”

“It’s the jam filling,” she explains, holding the wooden spoon up to his face. “You need to try it.”

“No,” he refuses. “That filling is half sugar.” He didn’t like putting too much sugar into his system. It made him slow and tired, not at all ready to jump into combat at a moment’s notice. 

“Ashe always tries things for me,” she pouts, lowering the spoon a half inch. It’s almost enough to make Felix break his ‘no sugar’ rule. “But if you don’t want to...I’m sure I could ask Sylvain.” 

Felix is surprised when a low growl escapes his lips, and he snatches the spoon out of her hand. “Well, since I’m here.” He raises the spoon to his lips, but finds he can’t open them. It hadn’t entered his body, yet it was already fighting back, utterly repulsed by the sickly sweet scent alone.

Byleth crosses her arms over her chest, waiting. He swears that he spots a gleam of amusement twinkle in her eyes. 

She’s _challenging_ him.

He couldn’t back down from a challenge, could he? So Felix takes a bite of the jam, feeling its sticky texture slide around his mouth. It’s so sweet that he’s trying his hardest not to gag, and he just _can’t_ bring himself to swallow.

“It’s good,” he manages to say around the jam in his mouth. It’s really fighting him. “Tastes like strawberries.”

“It’s made of Albinean berries, and if it’s so good why haven’t you swallowed it?”

“I’m...savouring it.”

“I’m sure you are,” she says unbelievingly when Felix gags again, this time utilising all his willpower to to force the jam down his throat. Byleth laughs, and he takes a few deep breaths to assure that it doesn’t come back up.

_Goddess, give him strength._

  
  


**_iii._ **

The third instance doesn’t occur in the dining hall. Instead, it’s in the cardinal’s room and in the company of all his friends and his _father._

Their war council begins as it always does, with Gilbert droning on about troop reports in his awfully dull baritone, damn near boring Felix and everyone else to sleep. It’s only when Gilbert is finally done and Byleth takes his place that Felix straightens in his seat and tries his best to pay attention.

“As you all know, our objective for the month is to take the Great Bridge of Myrddin,” she explains. “If we can capture the Bridge, then we rid the Alliance of Imperial occupation. Our cooperation with House Riegan should grant us safe passage, allowing us to pass into Gronder Field so we can…” Byleth pauses, grimacing. “Head south towards Enbarr.”

Everyone looks just as uncomfortable as she does at the idea of marching to Enbarr. Ingrid wrings her hands tightly, Sylvain’s knee starts bouncing, Annette’s fingers drum rapidly against the table. It’s a stupid idea, and everyone knows it. 

“However confident our prince may be in our army’s strength, I still don’t enjoy the idea of going in blind,” Byleth continues. “So I had Yuri work a few of his leads to see just what kind of Imperial presence we’re dealing with. Yuri, would you mind taking point on this?”

Somewhere behind him, a chair scarpes against the floor, and a headache dressed in purple makes his way to Byleth’s side. “No problem, friend. You know I can’t say no to an adorable face like yours,” he grins in that irritatingly perfect way of his. Felix can’t help but notice the hand that he rests on the small of her back, casual yet intimate as he nudges her back to her seat.

 _Adorable._ He was always calling her stuff like that, and it always made her blush.

As Yuri begins scrawling a few notes on the board, Felix starts to hear a faint ringing in his ears. Unlike on the battlefield, it isn’t from a blow to the head. 

More like the heart.

“On behalf of the Empire, the Bridge’s defence is being led by a General Ladislava,” Yuri explains. “She’s a fearsome wyvern rider, formerly in charge of the emperor’s personal guard. She was promoted to general just two years ago and now leads her own army in charge of keeping the Gloucester and Ordelia territories under control.”

“What about Acheron?” Byleth asks, glancing down at the map spread out on the table. “His territory is significantly smaller than the other two but it’s right on the border of the Empire. Any chance he’s already in their pocket?”

“Oh, don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours, friend,” Yuri chuckles, leaning down to tap the tip of her nose. “Acheron has indeed aligned himself with the Empire, but should he ambush us, I doubt it would take much for him to turn tail. That being said, we should place reinforcements here and here...”

Felix honestly isn’t paying much attention to the strategy being presented. He’s still stuck on the use of the word ‘pretty,” and the way Byleth’s face lights up when she hears it.

Byleth _is_ pretty, and that’s a fact. What Felix doesn’t know is why it bothers him to hear someone call her such. 

Especially someone like Yuri, whose charm is as deadly as the sword he wields. 

Byleth couldn’t possibly fall for something like that, could she? She wasn’t so easily charmed by sweet words or intimate touches. She was like him, placing high value on traits that mattered, like strength and skill.

...But Yuri _did_ pack a lot of strength, and he was certainly skilled with a blade. He was a smooth talker _and_ one of the few people Byleth allowed to touch her so casually.

A better question to ask would be; how could she _not_ fall for someone like that?

The thought of it bothers him more than he cares to admit.

Felix had strength. He also had skill, and it was enough to beat Yuri in a spar any day of the week, so what was he lacking? Charm, for one. He also wasn’t confident enough to call her by anything other than her title or name. He could never bring himself to call her by the things Yuri so easily could. 

_Pet names_ , he was sure he’d heard Sylvain refer to them as. Affectionate nicknames. Sweetheart, babe, darling—

“Felix,” Byleth calls, grounding him back into the ongoing war council. “Do you think you could rush the fortress alongside Dimitri and I? If our fliers have to engage Ladislava in the skies I want to take control of that ballista as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, of course,” Felix agrees, though he hadn’t really been listening. “I’ve got your back, darling _.”_

He only realizes it the second it leaves his mouth. 

The room falls dead silent, and Felix immediately regrets the slip of tongue when he feels all eyes trained on him. Sylvain makes a choked noise. Ingrid gasps in either shock or horror. Yuri laughs behind his hand. Mercedes has a stupidly large grin on her face. Worst of all, his father simply smiles, staring openly between him and Byleth.

Felix _hates_ it. Perhaps almost as much as he hates himself in the moment. 

Byleth pauses in her assignment of roles, blinking at him a few times in what can only be blatant disbelief. “Um, consider me assured...honey.”

  
  


**_iv._ **

Approximately three months, seventeen days, and fourteen hours after his conversation with Sylvain, it was with great disdain that Felix had come to the hard-fought conclusion that he _might_ have been right.

He _might_ have a crush on Byleth, and it _may_ have been what caused him to become so hyperaware of all the attention she received on a daily basis.

This fourth instance was no exception.

“Those are new,” Felix observes one afternoon when they’re sharing tea in Byleth’s room. He nods to the vase sitting in the centre of the table, filled with a bouquet of blue flowers. Last week they’d been daffodils, and the week before that, violets.

Byleth smiles, reaching out and tenderly touching a petal. “Yes. They’re lovely, aren’t they?”

Felix had never seen much use in flowers. Unless they could be crushed into a useful herbal tea or ground and mixed into a healing salve, he’d rather not have them around to attract bees. Not giving it another thought, he nods, taking a sip of his tea. “Ashe?” Ever since he and Petra had become involved, he’d been growing and distributing flowers left and right.

“Dedue, actually,” she says softly. “He’s an excellent gardening partner.”

The Blue Lion’s resident green thumb. “Why is he giving you flowers?” 

Flowers, from another point of view, could be seen as a romantic gift of sorts. He should know after all, he’d seen Sylvain present extravagant bouquets to women in the past. 

_“A flower can say whatever you want it to!”_ The redhead had said once when they’d been on greenhouse duty. _“Peace, sympathy, love, the meanings are endless, and girls love them!”_ Back then, Felix had scoffed, tending to the vegetables as Sylvain took full advantage, plucking roses and other flowers he’d deemed ‘seductive’ enough to hand out.

Felix glowers at the blooms in front of him. What exactly were these flowers saying?

“To say thank you for supporting Dimitri in his absence. It’s a rather kind gesture, sweet even.” 

Sweet. One thing Felix decidedly was not.

But he could be. 

“Do you have a favourite flower?” He finds himself asking, setting his cup down and leaning forward on his elbows. 

“I don’t really think I have a favourite,” she muses. “I think all flowers are lovely.” She goes quiet for a moment, thinking. “Actually...my father used to pick these little white flowers for me. I don’t remember what they’re called, but they could be crushed into tea and used as a sleep aid. They were so pretty to look at, but also useful for tough nights on the road.” 

“Chamomile?” Felix suggests.

Byleth shakes her head, still deep in thought. “No...they were smaller than chamomile flowers. Oh, I wish I could remember. He always said they were my mother’s favourite.” 

It’s not long after their conversation about flowers that Byleth has to go. As she heads off to find Seteth, Felix heads down the row of dorms, but he doesn’t head up the stairs to his room. Instead, he knocks on Dedue’s door.

“Hey, I need your help with something.”

  
  


When Byleth opens her door the next morning, a small bundle of flowers lays on her doorstep. Curious, she bends down and lifts it by it’s twine-bound stems. 

Recognition sparks immediately, uncovering age-old memories from the recesses of her mind, making her eyes misty. Her father had been gifting her these flowers since she was a child. He would often tuck them behind her ear or braid them into her hair, and when they dried he would make her tea to help her sleep whenever those odd dreams had kept her awake.

There’s a note tucked into the stems, and Byleth plucks it out to read Felix’s sharp scrawl.

_Valerian._

Sighing, she holds the note and flowers close to her heart, looking towards the training grounds to see a figure clad in teal looking back.

**_v._ **

Byleth had been spending an awful lot of time with Dimitri lately. 

Part of Felix understood. In fact, most of him did. The boar had been lost in the woods for so long, and been in an awful state of mind for even longer. It would take time for him to properly integrate back into everyone’s good graces. He needed the help of someone patient, kind, and, and ultimately understanding.

Felix had always been better at grieving alone, anyways. It was just easier. He didn’t have to try and explain feelings that he could hardly make sense of himself. He could just exist, feeling whatever he needed to feel in private, then go and whack at training dummies with his sword until his entire body was sore and he collapsed into bed.

So he really didn’t care that she’d been having tea with Dimitri, or that she would eat in the cathedral with him when he couldn’t yet handle the crowded dining hall. He didn’t even care that some nights he could hear them talking late after hours, through the wall he shared with the prince. It seemed that all three of them were having trouble sleeping.

Byleth was still there for him too, of course. She’d marched back to the monastery at his side, and even walked him to his room when he’d told her to leave him alone. He was thankful for the silence she knew he needed, but was grateful for her offer to talk whenever he was ready. She would watch him too, on the sidelines of the training grounds, casting heal when she thought he wouldn’t notice.

So no, at first he did not care that she’d been giving Dimitri more attention as of late. She was there for him in the shadows, giving him the space he needed to work his own shit out. He didn’t want to dump more problems on her shoulders anyways.

A small part of him did wish that he was a little more open with his feelings, because he needs her just as much as Dimitri does.

He senses that’s about to change when on a particularly rainy night, all too reminiscent of the first night after his father had died. 

Felix sits on the steps leading to her room, waiting for her to come back from her evening council with Seteth and Gilbert. He lets the rain wash over him, plastering his hair to his scalp and soaking through each layer of his uniform. He doesn’t feel cold. Perhaps it’s because he’d been numb since Gronder.

“Felix? What are you doing out here?”

Byleth’s familiar silhouette approaches him through the pouring rain. Like him, she’s drenched from head to toe, her bangs stuck to her forehead. 

“I need you,” he says, his voice breaking as thunder rolls above.

She stares at him for a moment, her eyes filled with such concern that his chest aches. 

Then takes a few steps forward, lowering herself onto the step next to him. Her arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer in order to wrap him into a tight hug. He hadn’t let anyone touch him since Gronder. Not Ingrid or Sylvain or Mercedes. 

Something akin to warmth stirs in his chest, and Felix immediately reciprocates her hug, clinging to her like a lifeline. 

“I’m here,” she breathes against his soaked skin. “I’m here for you.”

He isn’t sure how long they sit quietly in the rain, though neither of them seem to care. It’s what he enjoys most about their relationship, the mutual support that needs no exchange of words.

But eventually she’s pulling him into her room, and they’re stepping out of their drenched clothes, tossing them into a corner. She isn’t going to send him out into the rain again, saying he can stay the night.

Felix is much too tired to argue, and Byleth gives him one of Jeralt’s shirts to wear for the night. It’s much too loose for him, but it’s better than being left in his underwear. As she gets changed, he collects a spare pillow and blanket from the dresser, setting up a bed on the floor. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making a bed.”

She bends down and picks up his bedding, tossing it onto her mattress. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

His cheeks immediately flush, and the room suddenly feels ten times warmer than it really is. “I don’t think—”

Byleth rolls her eyes at him. “We’re adults, Felix. Come on.” She slides into bed, scooting against the wall and patting the area behind her. 

Felix can only manage a wordless nod, slipping in next to her. He isn’t sleeping in a bed next to someone who isn’t Sylvain, and that’d been when they were children. 

He rolls onto his side, facing away from her so she couldn’t see his eyes wide with panic. What if snored too loudly and kept her awake all night? What if he moved around and crushed her against the wall, or hit her with his arm? What if he got—

“Try to get some sleep,” she yawns, “you look like hell.”

She falls asleep rather quickly, a fact that Felix deduces when her breaths turn shallow and even, each soft breath ghosting across the back of his neck. He focuses on each inhale and exhale, using them to lull him to sleep. 

When Felix wakes the next morning, he knows it’s perhaps the best he’s slept in the last two weeks.

The first thing he wakes up to isn’t so bad either.

Byleth is already awake, smiling serenely as her cool fingers brush stray strands of hair out of Felix’s face. Her pale skin glows like amber in the morning light, and she still lay close enough that he could breathe in the fading scent of lavender. 

It’s then that Felix makes up his mind. He wanted to spend all his mornings with her. 

Huh…

Maybe he _did_ have a crush on her.

**_\+ i_ **

“Felix Hugo Fraldarius, get your butt in here!” 

Ah, what a special thing it is, to be summoned so casually by the most powerful woman in Fódlan.

“Good luck,” Seteth says quickly, collecting his things and quite literally speed-walking down the hall. 

Sighing, Felix turns into the room he shares with his wife, greeted generously with a pillow to the face.

“You let her sleep in _my_ bed?” Byleth demands from across the room, hands planted firmly on her hips. “You let her use _my_ pillow?”

“By, what the hell are you talking about?” he questions, making sure the door is shut before any of the staff hears. Gossip spread around this monastery like wildfire.

Byleth thrusts her index finger towards him. “Her!” 

Felix looks down at the purring cat in his arms, giving her a scritch underneath her chin. “Byleth, this is a cat.”

Her eyes narrow, indicating that he’s in trouble for some unknown reason. “I _know_ that. What I don’t know is why you allow her to nap in our bed. She gets fur everywhere, Felix.” 

“You’ve never had a problem with it before,” he points out. Felix couldn’t count the amount of times their bed had hosted the monastery puppies and kittens. He hadn’t ever heard Byleth complain until now.

“I wake up to a faceful of fur in the morning, and fall asleep with it at night!” 

“She just likes to fall asleep on your pillow,” Felix shrugs. As if to prove his point, the Fraldarius Wirehair leaps out of his arms, curling up atop the pillow Byleth had just thrown at him. “I just never have the heart to move her.”

“She has her own bed to sleep in,” Byleth continues, pointing at the small, untouched bed that sits next to their dresser. “And it’s not just our bed, she’s always in your lap when we’re reading, you feed her scraps whenever we’re eating, and when we train--”

Oh, he has a feeling he knows what this is about. “Byleth,” he interrupts, a smile creeping onto his face. “Are you jealous of our cat?”

She looks stunned at the accusation, her mouth opening and closing a few times as the masterful orator attempts to form words. “What? No, of course I’m not,” she huffs, plopping down onto their bed and crossing her arms over her chest, turning away indignantly. “I’m just saying that sometimes...I want to be the one you’re holding onto all the time.”

Felix enjoys the deep shade of pink peeking out from underneath the collar of her dress, the shade of embarrassment not often appearing on his wife. Neither of them had ever been overly affectionate, but after two years of marriage, that was bound to change sooner or later. “You know, if you want me to hold you all you have to do is say so.”

He joins her on the bed, fingers unclasping her heavy cloak and tossing it somewhere across the room. With agonizingly slow motions, he undoes each of the buttons on the front of her dress, peppering her chest and collarbone with kisses that trail up the column of her neck. He can feel her previous annoyance begin to melt away when she relaxes against him, her tight jaw going slack as he treats it with the gentlest kisses.

“Darling,” he murmurs into her ear, “I can do so much more than hold you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't know what to name the cat...somebody pls name it for me.


End file.
